The Hunger Games Fanfiction: Via Kyara, The Girl with the Scar
by Catnip394
Summary: This the story of Via Kyara, a dark-haired girl with a terrible secret, soon to be revealed when she volunteers for the Hunger Games. Please, please review, even if it's critical.
1. Chapter 1 The Reaping

I stand out from the crowd. I'm the only one who hasn't made an effort, the only one who isn't wearing a dress, hair pinned up, trembling in the crowds. I'm standing there, in my tight black leather, my knives in my belt and boots. Via Kyara. The Scarred Assassin.  
I scan the crowds for my younger siblings. My two brothers stand in the 12 and 13 year old sections. My sister is clinging to my mother. She's safe for now, being only six. I don't fear for myself, but I do fear for them. They wouldn't stand a chance.  
To me, the Hunger Games are a faint annoyance. They don't dominate my life, because, being an assassin, I could win them with ease. But I care about my family, and I may not be able to support them much longer. Then I realize what I have to do.  
"Attention, attention!" calls Nolwenn Bourbon, our escort. Nolwenn has been the district 8 escort since... well, pretty much forever. But the purple curls and white powdered skin never change. She then proceeds to chatter on about the glory of these ridiculous games. I sigh, and block it out. A whole afternoon wasted.  
Finally, the woman finishes. She picks a slip of paper out of the reaping ball. "Tianna Carter," she calls. Everyone grumbles as a wispy 12 year old bursts into tears and is hauled towards the stage. I waste no time. "I volunteer," I call out coolly, sounding almost bored. Gasps fill the crowds as I stride up to the stage, fingering my knives. They are immediately confiscated, and little Tianna runs off the stage like a frightened rabbit.

Later, I'm waiting in a small room in the mayor's house. My family rushes in, hugs me. My sister crawls onto my lap and smiles.  
"Aren't you worried about me?" I tease.  
"Why would I worry? I know you'll win." She replies, puzzled. Before I can answer, they're hauled out of the door.  
Surprisingly, I get another visitor. Tianna walks in, tears in her eyes.  
"You can win this, Via. You have to. Or I'll never forgive myself."  
"I will win," I promise her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.


	2. Chapter 2 The Tribute Parade

My prep team was onto me as soon as I arrived in the Capitol.

My waist-length black hair has been washed and combed, my eyebrows plucked and styled. All other hair has been removed from my body, and my nails have been cleaned and shaped. I sit in my thin robe, waiting for my stylist to arrive.

A man walks in, with tanned skin and dark hair. His eyes are a startling green, and thin, silver tattoos swirl down his arms and over one of his cheeks.

He examines me, a half smile on his handsome face.

"District 8 works in materials. Which gives us a wide choice." Explains the stylist. "For you? I used leather."  
I look at myself in the mirror. Beautiful, terrifying, aloof, cold. My outfit consists of a tight leather top, with criss-crossed silver ribbon and swirling leather spirals on my shoulders and upper chest, tight leather trousers with a wide belt, and heeled black boots. My black hair is piled up on my head and pinned in place, with two strands, braided with silver thread, hanging down on either side of my face, and my eyebrows arch coldly. Black lipstick and eyeliner, and my face is done. My stylist hands me two knives. I stare at them in disgust.  
"You couldn't kill a fly with these things," I object.  
"They're for appearance only," he explains, soothingly. He places a hand on my muscled arm. "Now go."

The chariot is black and silver, and the horses are beautiful black stallions. I am ready.

As my black chariot starts to move, I'm gratified to see that on the screens I appear almost disinterested. The crowds roar and chant my name. Via Kyara. The Scarred Assassin... but they don't know that... yet.


	3. Chapter 3 The Training Center

I enter the Training center, unconcerned by the hostile glances my fellow tributes are shooting my way.

I consider making allies. I could team up with the careers, then a few knives in backs and I've won. But no... I'm stronger alone. I start off with things I don't know... survival skills, archery, snares, swords, maces, edible plants. I find the sword fighting to be a lot like my knives, but with added reach. I memorise the edible plants etc. pretty fast. I can see the careers sneering as I fail to wield the mace, so I decide to show them what I'm made of. Muscles rippling, I pick up the heaviest weights and send them smashing into the wall. Next, I walk over to the knife throwing section and choose six, slipping one into each boot, two into my belt, and one in each hand. I throw one at the target; it sinks hilt deep into the dummy's chest. I somersault over the dummy and land into a roll, jumping up and throwing the next. I backflip, drawing the knives out of my boots, and send them whistling into two bullseyes, Finally, I draw the last two from my belt and whip round, decapitating the dummy with one hand and thrusting the other knife deep into its chest. I smile and wave at the careers.

I see a girl watching me with wide eyes. She looks to be maybe 15? Two years younger than me.

Tentatively, she makes her way over to where I stand, not even out of breath.  
"Etta, District 6," she says, clearing her throat. She pushes a golden brown curl behind her ear, and holds out her hand. I take it, warily.  
"Via Kyara, District 8," I introduce myself. She nods.  
"I know. I saw you at the tribute parade." she replies, shyly. Then: "You're pretty good with those knives... want to ally?"

I hesitate, then nod. Alone, I would be vulnerable while sleeping. But I have a feeling I can trust this girl. A smile spreads across her face.

"Listen." I say, in a low voice. "The careers can't know we're allies, understand? I have a plan, but it will only work if they think I'm alone."  
Etta nods, and I laugh loudly, turn, and walk away. Hopefully, the careers will assume that I rejected the help of the younger girl, preferring to act alone.

I start to think about what I will do for the Gamemakers. Then it comes to me. Smiling, I slice off one of a dummy's arms, and cut it into eight pieces. I slip seven knives into my belt, and keep one in my right hand. I pick up a piece of the arm, and throw it. Two seconds later, one of my knives is pinning it to the wall. I carry on until all eight pieces are safely speared against the far wall. Then I move on to the fishing station. It's pretty easy; you mainly have to have the patience. I try the spear throwing, but fail to hit the targets. I decide to leave the weapons, seeing as I can fight with my knives, and punch with my fists. The assassinations and brawls in D8 have prepared me for fights, and I can hunt well enough with my throwing knives.

Survival skills are the important thing now.


	4. Chapter 4 Private Sessions and Scores

"Via Kyara, Distict 8." Comes the automated voice. I stand up.

I stride in calmly. I can feel the Gamemakers' eyes on me as I pick up two sharp knives. I run over to a dummy, flip over it, spin round and decapitate it. I throw the two knives at targets, and they land hilt-deep in the bullseyes. Next, I run over to the weights, showing off my speed, and send the three heaviest crashing into the far wall. I then repeat what I did in training; slice up one of the dummies. I gather up the two-inch chunks, and call up to the Gamemakers:  
"Can one of you come and get these?"  
I can see them muttering and shaking their heads. One finally relents, and comes down to collect my makeshift targets. I smile warmly, choose twenty knives.  
"Throw them!" I explain, noticing their puzzled expressions. One shrugs and picks up a piece, throwing it gently. Way too easy. Before he knows what has happened, it's pinned to the wall by a familiar throwing knife. I can see the disbelief etched onto their faces as they all pick up pieces of the dummy and throw them, determined that I will miss one. I don't.  
I smile up at the disbelieving Gamemakers. They won't forget me in a hurry.

My eyes are glued to the television as Caesar Flickerman reads out the scores. To my surprise, Etta receives a 10. Finally, he gets to District 8.

"And Via Kyara, District 8... earned herself a 12!" he cries, incredulous. I smile. A score like that won't hurt when it comes to sponsors. And a few sponsors can sometimes make all the difference.


	5. Chapter 5 The Interviews

It is time for the interviews.

I look at my outfit, disgusted. My stylist has made me look young, innocent, weak. A white, greek-style tunic, with a plaited golden belt. My long, black hair loose and glossy, cascading down my shoulders in an wavy, unbroken sheet, with a thin strand from either side of my face plaited and pulled back. Strappy, golden, heeled sandals. My nails painted a pale, shimmery gold. My eyes, large and innocent under thick, dark lashes. I look pretty, beautiful even, but vulnerable. Easy to kill.  
"What were you thinking?!" I hiss, angrily. He smiles as he attaches my triangular spiral pendant.  
"Via, you got a 12 in training. They're scared of you. Now they need to like you, too. Nobody will sponsor a tribute they don't like. But if you're open, honest, innocent, they'll like you, and when you add that to your deadly score and terrifying tribute parade... sponsors." He explains, grinning. I consider it. I have to admit; he's right.  
"Alright." I decide. Swishing my hair back, I stalk out of the room.  
I'm calm and collected as I wait to be called onstage. Finally, it's District 8's turn. I walk on, pleased to see that I'm not shaking, and sit down, flashing the audience a sweet smile. Caeser Flickerman begins to question me:  
"What do you miss most from home, Via?" he asks.  
"I... I miss my family. I want them to know that I'll be okay." I reply, not having to fake the wistful expression.  
"Any one you miss most?" He asks me, taking my hand.  
"My... my little sister." I wipe a fake tear from my eye.  
"What was going through your head when you volunteered?"  
"I decided to volunteer because..." I take a deep breath. "I want my family to be able to live in luxury, safe and happy, knowing that I'm safe. I don't want them to have to worry about me anymore." He looks puzzled, but continues on with the questioning.  
"How do you like the Capitol so far?"  
"It's amazing. There are so many beautiful people, and extraordinary things to do." I gush, faking a look of wonder.  
"What is your favorite thing about it?"  
"The beauty. We don't see a lot of beauty in 8." I say, simply. The crowd sighs sympathetically.  
"What the feelings you have toward tomorrow, the start of the games?" says Caesar, smiling.  
"I'm ready. I can't wait to go. And I'm going to make sure I keep you all entertained." I add, smiling sweetly at the audience. They clap and cheer.  
"Are you a hunter, gatherer, runner, or fighter?"  
"I'm a hunter. Definitely." I say, winking.  
"That's an amazing dress! Do you love it, and your Stylist?"  
"I do." I say, happily.  
"Did you like your parade outfit that your Stylist designed?"  
"I thought it was beautiful. It really reflected my character." I say, mysteriously.  
"Now, your training score of 12, what are your feelings to that?"  
"I think that just shows the audience who they should put their money on." I reply, with a dazzling smile in their direction. They laugh and clap.  
"Before the buzzer sounds, is there anything you'd like to say to the audience, or to anyone back home?" He asks, finally.  
"Yes, Caesar. There is." I say, suddenly going serious. "In eight... I was an assassin. I'm not proud of it, but I did what I had to do. In my eyes? These games are exactly the same. I've never failed an assassination, and there's no reason why I should fail now. I was known as the Scarred Assassin because of my scarred cheek. Via Kyara, the Scarred Assassin, the girl who never failed to kill." Caesar stares at me shocked, and a buzz of noise fills the room as the crowd discusses this. Then the buzzer goes, and I curtsy. They will not forget the girl with the scar.


	6. Chapter 6 The Bloodbath

Claudius Templesmith's voice sings through the arena as I arrive through the platform. A sharp cold wind catches my skin, and I am now aware of why the jacket they gave me is so fluffy. I feel the cold nip my nose and fingers. Everywhere is white; snow cakes everything. In front of me is the Cornucopia, which is floating in icy water. Rings of ice separate me from the bounty, each ring getting bigger towards me.

To my left are mountains, to my right is a forest. As I observe the Cornucopia, I see red dots swimming inside the water.

The count down has struck to the final five, and, for the first time, my heart is racing, my palms getting sweaty.

My plan was simple. My ally and I both had speed. None of the careers did. And in these games, speed can make all the difference.  
The arena is cold, but I am used to the cold. I notice Etta watching me out of scared brown eyes. I nod.

And when the countdown is over, I run. With a great leap, I land skidding on the ring of ice, and snatch up a knife belt. Three tributes are heading for me. I choose three sharp knives and throw them with such speed that they don't know what has hit them. I dash for the edge of the ice ring and jump again, landing in a roll. Then, sticking to the plan, I grab another knife belt and climb the cornucopia. I grin at Etta as she makes her way over. I keep the other tributes off her with my knives.

And finally she has joined me, with water and weapons, and the taste of victory is sweet. Today, I caused the bloodbath. How many have I killed? Six? Eight? That's nothing. Nothing compared to what the girl with the scar has done before. I climb down, because now we have our pick of the weapons and supplies. We have conquered the Cornucopia.


	7. Chapter 7 A Twist

We set up camp in the Cornucopia, smiling. Our plan worked. We have food, night vision glasses, water, weapons, sleeping bags, medicine... everything we need to win these evening, I choose a knife belt, night vision glasses and a warm jacket. Etta stays by the cornucopia and I pick up an axe. Part two of our plan is ready to go.  
I reach the mountains and hunt around. After a few minutes, I find her. Jessica Elliot. District twelve. Ready to die.  
She screams and cowers. I must look terrifying. The girl with the scar, with a belt of knives and an axe in her hand. In the dark. In the Hunger Games.  
And then, I do what she least expects. I hold out the axe, hilt-first.

"Fancy an alliance, Jessica?" I ask, sweetly.  
"What's the catch, Via?" she asks, cautiously. I laugh.  
"If I was going to kill you, I'd have done it already, sweetie. And I wouldn't have given you a weapon. We just felt that 2 was a vulnerable number. We could use your skills." I tell her, casually. "So what do you say?"

She hesitates, then nods, snatching the axe and holding it tight. I study her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, maybe 14 or 15? But I saw her with the axe in training. And she is not to be argued with.

"Brilliant," I grin, beckoning. I lead her back to the Cornucopia where Etta is waiting, anxiously. Relief spreads across her face when I arrive, unharmed, with our new ally. Jessica is shivering badly by now, so we hand her a sleeping bag and a pot of soup. I light a fire.  
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asks Etta, dubiously. I shrug.  
"They know we're here. Let them come."  
And as the sky darkens, we sit in our sleeping bags and I offer to take the first watch. My allies fall asleep, their weapons beside them, comfortable and warm.

The anthem plays and the faces of the dead tributes glow in the sky. To others this may be disturbing, sad, scary. To me, this just means I'm closer to my goal.  
I see Etta stir as the loud music plays. She sits up blearily.  
"How many are dead?" She asks. I shrug.  
"I didn't count."

Sighing, Etta slips out of her sleeping bag, and walks over to me. She shivers slightly, and I pull a blanket from the pile, throw it round her shoulders. She flashes me a grateful smile.  
"I'm not sure about 12," she whispers, hesitantly. "Can we trust her?"

I consider her question, deciding how best to answer.  
"I think so." I reply, finally. "I don't think she'd be stupid enough to fight us; if she killed one of us the other would kill her. I mean, even if she defeated us both, she'd immediately be killed by the careers. They'd make the most of our being out of the way, and loot the Cornucopia. At the moment she's in a pretty good, safe position, with our supplies and protection. I reckon we can trust her."


	8. Chapter 8 How I Got My Scar

Etta offers to keep watch for a couple o hours. Eventually, I agree, because I need to rest at some point. When I wake up, the sky is very slightly lighter. I estimate it to be... maybe four in the morning? I sigh and rub my eyes, grabbing a pack of dried fruit. I pick out a dried pear half and toss one to Etta. I gently shake tired Jessica awake, and offer her the dried fruit. She chooses something and I light a fire, because the one I lit a few hours ago has burned out and the arena is cold. Very cold.  
"Did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" I ask, as a topic of conversation.

Etta shakes her head, chewing her pear.  
"No, how?" she asks.

I cast my thoughts back to the day 'Via Kyara' became 'the Scarred Assassin'.  
"I was on my first assassination, and I was terrified." I begin, slowly. "I was 14 years old and my father had just died of an illness. I was meant to assassinate the Mayor's son." I hear Etta's small gasp. I glance at her briefly, then continue on with my story.  
"I climbed the stone wall up to his bedroom, and picked the lock on the window. It was surprisingly easy. Until he woke up.  
'Via Kyara,' he said, looking pleasantly surprised. 'Having second thoughts about my... offer?' I stared at him in disgust.  
'I wouldn't take you up on that if you offered me ten times the amount of money' I replied, scornfully. He laughed.  
'You love me really,' he told me, batting his eyelashes. 'So why are you here, my lovely?'  
'Oh... just passing,' I replied, with a wink. And I drew my knife and plunged it into his chest. He tried to scream but I smothered his voice with his pillow. He yanked the knife out and slashed at my face, cutting deep into the skin.  
'Not so pretty now, are you?' he whispered, as he died. Biting back my tears, I escaped the mayor's house and ran home. I tried to stitch up my cut, but I knew it would scar forever.

I can feel my allies' eyes on me.  
"The offer that he was talking about, did he try to pay you to.." Etta trails off.

I nod grimly, in answer to Etta's question, picking out another piece of dried pear. I refuse to look at Etta and Jessica. I don't know how they will react... disgusted? Horrified? Sympathetic? But I don't want to know. I'm here to win these games and leave. I can't let myself get attached to my allies, because then I'll be out of my depth. Killing strangers, I'm used to. But killing friends?  
The Girl with the Scar does not kill her friends. She protects them. At all costs.

"Via," says Etta, slowly. Just my name. But I know exactly what she means.  
Angrily, I rip my dried pear in half. Why did I tell them that? Why didn't I see that this would happen? I can't afford to get attached to these people. As friends, they are much more dangerous to me than they are as enemies.  
I tend to the fire with my back to the others to put off the moment when I will have to face them. Finally, I can put it off no longer, and I turn round to face them, my face a defiant mask of cool, uncaring calm.  
But inside I am shaking.

"So that's why." whispers Etta. I look up at her."Why this is so easy for you. To kill without feeling anything. This is your game. This must seem like child's play, compared to what you're used to. Once you win, all this" she gestures around her, "will seem like nothing. You can get out of here alive, without feeling anything." she stops talking. I stare at her, then break eye contact by looking outside.

She must think I'm some sort of cold-hearted monster; able to hunt, able to kill, able to feel nothing. I clear my throat.  
"For me, the Games started the day I got my scar. But now I have a chance to end them." I reply, shortly, turning to face her. "I've been playing these games all my life. And I've never lost. I'm not going to stop now."

I see the glint of tears in Etta's eyes, then they harden with resolution. I'm confused. Then suddenly, I realize what she's thinking. What a kind, selfless person she is. "No." I tell her, firmly. She gives me a wide-eyed, innocent look. I glare at her. "You have a family to get back to." I whisper. And her eyes mist over with tears.

Jessica is watching Etta carefully.  
"Etta, I know we both know that Via will win, but that doesn't mean we can't at least try. I'm going to try, even though Via has a better chace at winning then me." she tells her, quietly.

Etta is crying now, tears falling freely to the floor of the Cornucopia. It makes me wonder how many tears have fallen here before hers.  
"Okay," she whispers. But she looks unsure as to whether she can keep her promise.

I know what Etta is thinking, but I can't let her... can I?  
"Just a game..." says a teasing voice in the back of my head. "You were always going to have to kill her in the end. Why not let her help you first?"  
But now I'm not so sure I can.  
But I have to get home. This is my only chance to end these games. I have to do this. For my family.  
I want to cry, but unless there are any very brutal fights going on, I have a feeling I'm on every screen in Panem.

Tension clouds the curved, metal room. Eventually, Jessica breaks the silence by suggesting that we organise our supplies.

Grateful for a change of topic, I check the sky. We have maybe an hour until the sun rises. I stand and walk over to our makeshift pile of supplies. I notice Etta picking up a black box. I start to ask her what was in it, but her eyes widen and she puts it down. There must be a reason. I decide to question her later.

I'm pleased to discover a pair of soft, leather boots, exactly like my own. I smile and pull them on over my numb feet.  
I find a thin piece of rope, and decide to plait my waist-length hair. I braid it into a thick rope and tie it tightly. Next, I find a thin, black coat; designed to reflect body heat. I pull it on and buckle on a knife belt. The Girl with the Scar is ready to go.

Once again, I check the sky. I estimate that we have spent half an hour searching through the loot. "Lets get half an hour's sleep before sunrise." I suggest to my allies. They nod, and we snuggle down in our sleeping bags.

I wait until I hear the faint snores of my allies, before creeping over the the mysterious black box. I open it, and let out a barely audible gasp. One word springs to mind. Grenades. I slip the small, black box into my sleeping bag, and curl up to sleep.

The sun has streaked the sky with pink-gold light when I finally open my eyes. I decide that I have slept for over an hour in the Cornucopia, safe and warm with my two allies.

I sit up and sharpen my knives to pass the time. Not that they need much sharpening. The deadly shards of metal glint evilly in the faint light of dawn, ready to hunt, ready to kill, ready to be stained red with the blood of fallen victims. The other tributes. The pieces in the Games. But I am more than a piece in these Games. To me, the Hunger Games are a mere convenience. A way to put an end to the real Games, that started the day I got my scar.

I open a packet of crackers, and nibble on one. I know it's cold, but to be honest, I'm used to it. I know how to be cold. I know how to be hungry. I know how to kill. Because I am the Scarred Assassin. Soon to be the Victor of the Hunger Games.  
I slither out of my sleeping bag and wonder what to do next. Maybe now is the time to get the audience on my side? I begin to talk.

"People of the Capitol," I say, my voice quiet, but strong and unwavering. "You have seen that I will not hesitate to kill. You have seen that I have these games planned out. So if I were you... I'd make sure your money's on me, because that's a pretty safe bet."  
And then I take another cracker, and slip back into my sleeping bag, waiting for my allies to awaken.


End file.
